Post Christmas Post

A Merry Christmas?

Not always for All

A belated merry Christmas
season to you my beloveds, I pray this period has found you in good spirits.
That there in the midst of all the trimmings and what with all, you have discovered
your every good hope realized. May God bless you and keep you. My hope is you’ve
found peace, joy, and love in union with the Holy Spirit during this exhilarating
and festive time of year. Also, and if there is such a thing, a bunch of low
cal. gingerbread cookies in your stockings. But let’s not forget that kick butt
present nestled under the Christmas tree as well.

It’s that time of the
year again where recollections from childhoods past hold sensations of awe and exhilaration.
Torn and crumpled wrapping paper litter the floor as echoes of laughter and clamoring
toys strain the limits of mornings comfort. Where, for an elder generation,
cheery carols and melancholy melodies convey jovial rhythms from colossal old
radios. And a time when crazy uncles & cousins randomly popped by, adding a
more fun loving experience to the holiday. Numerous memories
draw to mind as I rap on the keys of a beat-up laptop to deliver this message
of good will. As well as a glimpse into a reality I fear far too many of us share
during this holiday season. Thus I write in the hope you won’t walk away from
this with too heavy a heart, because I don’t… well, not entirely. You see, next
to all the regalia I’ve described, there is a truth to this season that perhaps
many of us don’t even care to remember much less admit.

Imagine if you will, a tree decked out and decorated
in all its grandeur. Vibrant orbs reflecting multicolored flashing lights, seemingly
keeping beat to the music. An assortment of miniature figurines and delicious candy
canes lavishly hang from their respective bows. And tidy wrappings which
imitate the scent of pine are neatly tucked beneath that green monolithic marvel
of shimmering tinsel. Now pan out, and picture a young (yet strikingly handsome) boy staring intently into all of this, lying
belly down on a loveseat with arms crossed under his chin and propped over the
armrest. Daydreaming, engulf by lights and lost in what appears to be a blissful
fascination of Christmas wonder.

This momentary bliss however
is not as magnificent as it may appear. Truth is… the lad’s thoughts are
clouded with dark uncertainty. And in a small way, hopes it’s an anxiety other
children must certainly share. Then at least this would imply his family isn’t
alone in its heaviness, circling the outskirts of imagined happiness’.

I suppose it was
near the age of about 11 or 12 years when I could tell something wasn’t right about the
world in which we existed. Especially around Christmas time there seemed to be an
indistinguishable sadness in the air and at that age, it was a gloom I couldn’t
shake much less able to put a finger on. The memory of this particular time also
caries the helpless feeling of an inability to give our parents the peace I believed
they deserve. They strove to give us kids the best upbringing they possibly could
and for the most part, did a damn good job. Despite their efforts however, I’m
sure I wasn’t alone in sensing the heaviness in their hearts. One could tell
they wanted to do and provide more than they were able. And as a point of fact in
my late teens, my mother confessed to me that she always wanted to give us kids
our very own play and swing set, but alas could never afford it.

So when Christmas
morning came, it wouldn’t matter if you did or didn’t get what you wished or asked
Santa for, you would act as though you got everything and more, and became good
at it. Although most times we didn’t have to pretend, we were dearly blessed
just the same.

It was a time of
transitioning in our lives as children. There weren’t as many arguments or
physical violence between my parents as in the past since they no longer drank
as regularly, but there was still the odd occasion. Therefore there was yet the
possibility of heated banter escalating to blows following the revelry and howls
of joy. I was sure chances were slim though of my aunt crashing into the tree again,
crushing gifts along in her wake.

Then again, many of
those parties were rather fun and some even went without incident. Sometimes we
didn’t have to clean up empty and broken beer bottles the next morning. Because
for the most part, the folks would restrain themselves for our sakes in regards
to the fighting and mess during Christmas. I say for the most part because in
one instance I’m told, dad tried to destroy some of our gifts in a drunken
rage. Thankfully mother, along with their friends, was able to stop him before
too much damage occurred.

As little ones we
would dance for relatives and their friends who would throw money at our feet. And
back then, an energetic jig fetched many a trip to the candy store. Then of
course there was our trio, the youngest of six who would sneak beer from time
to time. I alone on the other hand, didn’t have to steal much alcohol at Christmas.
Ever since I could remember, and much to my mothers’ chagrin, dad would get me
drunk every Christmas Eve. Oh I’m sure it started with just a little beer at
first. But I do recall one year sitting beside him on the edge of their bed
with my feet barely touching the floor, sharing shots of Canadian Club whiskey.
All the while staring at the floor as he lessoned me on what it takes to be a
man, looking up every so often into those glossy eyes… if only to appear
interested in his words.

Notice how I said “feet barely touching the
floor”? Talk about starting young! I liked it though, it made me feel special. In
addition, I was always good for a laugh to my sisters as they had to care for
me or pick me up off the floor when I’d fall from the top bunk. (Hahahaha, good
times, good times.)

Kids huh… Isn’t it generally
true that small children haven’t a judgmental bone in their bodies? Often times
demonstrating more unconditional love than they ever could, or even would as
adults. Regardless the amount of love, the quality of life or value of the
gifts they receive. I believe this is why Jesus said that the kingdom belongs
to those such as them.

Oh I know we’ve seen
kids at times acting out and complaining about what they’ve received. However I’m
sure you’d agree that there may have been some overcompensated love at play
somewhere in their lives. But apart from that, I believe the innocence so pleasingly
displayed by children emulates elegantly the biblical account prior to the
eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And just as the forbidden fruit
took hold of Adam and Eve, so also does that spirit take hold of us come a
certain age. Consider possibly, roundabout the age in which our story takes
place. (Hmmm)

Surprisingly enough
and despite the early training I’ve described. I never did become alcoholic
through adulthood, just simply a not so common “coca nut”. The term my eldest
son expressed one day acknowledging my addiction. In which just recently the immensity
of my disgrace has once again become evident.

But I’m getting ahead
of myself. So let’s back up to a place where Christmas was no longer as much
about the party and presents… but about the presences. The family gatherings
during Christmas became more or less ideal as they should have been. As
mentioned and into my early teens, the drinking and fighting between my parents
became fewer and farther between. Eventually my mother quit drinking altogether
and gave her life to Jesus. Not the catholic practice of Jesus on which we were
raised mind you, but the personal and living Jesus.

I loved my mother so
very much, she was a great woman. Better than my father deserved that’s for
sure. She was the one who made certain we always had the best Christmas’ they
could offer. Not to mention she made the tastiest turkey stuffing in the
universe. Ya you heard me… the universe! The turkey itself however, well regrettably
at most times would be a hit or miss on the moistness scale. (Sorry mom!) lol…

Unfortunately, Isabel
Lee died of cancer just prior to Christmas about seventeen years ago, on the 13th
of December. Then in relation to that unpleasant event, custody of my youngest
son was also stolen from me by his mother. Subsequently I never did celebrate Christmas
in the same way ever again. After that year…everything changed.

Likewise what I miss
most are those exceptional moments with my kids, especially during this time of
year. I am frequently haunted by the longing for their laughter amid smiles
accompanied by eager kisses, which were plentiful when they were young. Yet at
the same time troubled by the fact that whenever I dream of them, it is always of
when they were little, and never as teenagers save once. This only serves to
remind me of the shame I bear. Currently my eldest daughter has a son of her
own and my sons, well… they’re men. But fear grips that I may never know them well
as such.

You see, it wasn’t
long before the previous Christmas when a heated discussion with my son John took
place. He then blocked me on Facebook and wished no longer to speak with me.
Now this year the same thing happened with my youngest son, though of a dissimilar
dispute. A dispute in which he wasn’t even primarily involved other than the
fact I asked him to give my grandson a hug and kiss on my behalf. For at the
time I was feeling put off from seeing Brady for four months due to a busy schedule.
The explanation which was given to me by Crystal and a position Daytona felt
compelled to defend for his sister.

I don’t blame them however.
They just feel I haven’t the right to ask for their time or speak to them as a
father who’s been around their whole lives would. Yet I know not the words or
manner in which to speak to them. They are still my children and my only wish is
to see them make good choices. Well… that along with the opportunity to visit
with my grandson.

So now here I sit,
feeling all sorry for myself and such. Not exactly a condition someone who
professes a strong faith should be engaged in. But I say to you right here, right
now, it has nothing to do with faith. It simply has to do with missing my
children. It has to do with the contemplation of past choices and the consequences
which have arisen as a result.

On the other hand, we
must realize that our children don’t truly belong to us. They are the Fathers
and we are but stewards of them for a short time. So I know that those, who at
one time were pleased to call me dad, will be properly provided for and
protected by their one true Father. This knowledge stems on the basis that He
promised this to me a long time ago, along with the fact I’ve heard and seen
evidence of Him in their lives. Which is the real reason why I haven’t truly
button down for them, or flew straight and towed the line as any other
respectful lemming, er um… member of society would.

But one can’t help
but to be saddened when indications point that your offspring have no desire to
see you any longer because of your weaknesses, absences and lack of tact in conversations.
And then to think of the way I’ve felt about my own father at times. From my
mid teens on I’ve held feelings of disappointment and disgust toward him. There
were also times I’d fantasize about his death. Even going so far as wishing for
it to happen, wondering what was the point of his life anyway. These thoughts
would occur periodically up until his manslaughter when I was 21. And no, I
didn’t do it, lol. He may not have been the ideal model of human character but
he wasn’t the worst either, he had his moments. He was my dad after all, and I
loved him just the same. Consequently, however much or little I may have turned
out to be like him, I can’t help but wonder how unlike the kids consider me.

OK, just imagine the
scope of such feelings. Now apply that to the scores of homeless and addicted, as
well as those who’ve overcome such situations. Regardless of those who believe
we’re all just a bunch of uncaring and selfish deadbeats, sometimes the pain we
bear is exactly what traps us in a continuous cycle of escape. We’re out there,
and many may not even have the benefit of a personal relationship with God. For
those who do… well just because we may accept Gods forgiveness, does not necessarily
mean we are all able to forgive ourselves.

We all have our own
stories and family skeletons, so perhaps some of you have an idea of what I
speak. Christmas is one time of the year which serves to augment our memories
and emotions more than most any other, be they good or bad. Then again, for countless
members of society it happens to be a roller coaster of both. But for the
purposes of this story, I would like you to keep in your hearts and minds the
poverty stricken, the homeless as well as those removed from familiar notions
of social and cultural norms.

Because I believe the
Christmas season hits harder on us than any of you may realize. Evidence of
this lies in the overabundance of fighting that has taken place at the drop-ins
just prior to New Years. I’ve also been hearing the same words which reflect my
own from friends on the street, “thank God Christmas is over”. Let me clarify
something though, our reasons for stating that familiar phrase are not those
expressed out of exhaustion and materialistic concern. Ours run much deeper
than that.

I don’t mind telling
you, the only circumstance which has made this season bearable over the years
were caring friends who shared their family and friends. Yet therein lies precisely
problem. It was “their” family and friends. Hence the years I’d fail to commemorate
Christmas altogether, other than in the spirit of Christ’s birth. Some years I’d
catch a mass, keeping in mind the gift God so graciously gave more than two
thousand years ago. Then perhaps the lure of a turkey dinner along with a sock
full of candy, razors and a toothbrush would draw my attention. Whatever treats
and trinkets various charitable organizations happen to be handing out that
year were always appreciated. Personally, this is just so as to not feel
totally removed from everything and everyone.

This year as in those
of several past, I had the opportunity to join a friend for Christmas but
simply didn’t feel like pursuing that avenue. Also, a very sweet woman who
doesn’t really even know me all that well, and volunteers at the Mustard Seed,
generously offered me a place in her family’s festivities. Again I refused, irregardless
of the great surprise and gratitude resulting of her offer. And although I
appreciate this sort grace initiated by such heavenly hearts, it’s just not the
same as one’s own family. Besides, the issues with my own kids have been lying
heavy on me as of late.

There are a few other
things I would like to mention, things that have been adding up in December
besides the family unit dilemma. Silly things which on their own would be of no
real consequence, but collectively has been fostering rage and resentment in my
being that has no place being there. So perhaps what I’m saying is, please pray
for me.

It begins with a job
offer which when I showed up to work, the boss didn’t... for two days in a row.
That first day I waited for three hours at a drop-in. Then he ended up hiring
someone else after he turned up late the second day. For I had already left,
and although we were previously acquainted, I had yet to obtain his phone
number. After his performance though, perhaps it’s a good thing I not work with
him anyway.

Secondly, a landlord
& Tenant review board hearing with a housemate didn’t turn out at all as I
expected. You see, this fellow has been a constant source of problems since his
moving in about six or seven months ago. And in early November, he called me
out and uttered death threats against me following my trying to get him to
quiet down from one of his rants. To my surprise, he was permitted nearly two
extra months to move. And this was after the landlord and I agreed to give him
three weeks to vacate the premises rather than the customary two, or as in matters
where death threats are concerned, an immediate 24-48 hours. In my mind I
figure we were being generous as good Christians should. Heck in my mind, he’s
lucky I didn’t have him charged, or as I most certainly would have done in the
past… set the stage for his attempt to carry out that threat.

After months of such
behavior on his part, that is about the extent I was able to exercise
forgiveness. And I know I should be more accepting of the decision by the Board
it being winter and all. But if the tables were turned… it is highly doubtful I
would have received such generosity. Because I never have before and for a
whole lot less. Huh, white people… ya I said it! (Lol) Oh common, just live a
lifetime in my moccasins and you’d understand why I’d say such a silly thing. .

But let’s move on. You
know those Christmas Bureau deals that come each year? Well I requested a food
voucher as well as a gift for my grandson. Perhaps I didn’t get the gift but a
grocery gift card did come in the mail. Another housemate said he’d seen it on
the kitchen table, yet it disappeared before I returned home that day… go
figure. From what I hear, a lot of people had gotten their gift cards stolen. So
I’m not the only one who lost out that day, but it was $35 worth of groceries I
could have used.

Now in this next case,
please forgive my harshness but hear me out. One of my closest acquaintances of
the past few years had blatantly hinted for months that they would get me a
laptop for Christmas because mine is so old and has missing keys. It started
two years ago simply because I noticed this person had an apple notebook which
they didn’t use. Nor does this person even know how to use it… they can’t even
set up an e-mail address for crying out loud, lol. So I offered to buy it but
they didn’t want to part with it, which I can understand. You see, this person
is a hoarder and the item in question came from ex flame.

So like I said, this
was the Christmas before last and my hopes were high, I was excited come
Christmas time. However I didn’t receive what this person had alluded to on
more than one occasion. Which was fine, I got over it fairly easily because it
is a big ticket item. And I am no stranger to disappointment after all.

Then this past year,
the same thing happens again! For months this person continually said they’d
get me one, if only just to make up for last year. But once again I allowed my
hopes to be risen only to be dashed with the typical items everyone receives
from the drop-ins anyway, and a couple dollar store trinkets. Damn it! I hate
feeling cheated out of something I shouldn’t even truly expect in the first
place. But as I said, they would continually mention it stating, “Just wait
till Christmas… just wait till Christmas.”

I
mean I could
appreciate that this person is in the same boat financially as so many
others.
But on the other hand, I know this person, and knew they currently have
money
banked in the neighborhood of a couple to even a few thousand dollars.
They’ve
also been collecting checks from the government all the while as well.
Then on
top of that, is sitting on a mini lap-top they’re still not using. So
ya, there
was an expectation they’d might follow through with their promise this
time. You
know what… this person still hasn’t returned some of my belongings from
when I
was homeless. I requested them after I got my place but didn’t want to
press
the issue. That was over a year ago. Needless to say I’ve had just about
enough
of putting my faith in jeopardy with this person so probably won’t have
anymore
dealings with this “friend”. And not just for those reasons, there is
more to it but that will have to be all ya get outta me in this respect.

Phew, I’m glad that
part is over with. I was getting a little worked up there. I apologize for
sounding like a whiny little bitch but hey, I’m still only human. And yes I
can forgive this person and understand their personal issues. However, this
does not mean I need to continually put up with that sort of crap. Would you?

Now for something you
might find truly funny. You know how I told you I volunteered at a community
garden over the summer? Well I won a piñata for having accumulated those most
hours worked and I wanted to give it to my grandson and his aunt Jesse. But
with all the things I had to bring to that side of town, it was just too much
to carry on the bus so I just brought them what I could carry. And as mentioned
earlier with scheduling visits, my daughter and her fiancé didn’t have the time
(in four months) to come and pick up the items and presents I had for the
family. So I decided to keep the piggy looking piñata for myself.

I was told it was filled with candy and small
toys and it didn’t matter to me if the candy might have been stale or not,
since it has been sitting in the corner of my room for nearly four months. I
figured this way at least I’d have something to open on Christmas morning. Low
and behold however, the pig was empty! HAHAHAHAHA! A guy just can’t catch a
break can he, hahahaaha! But one saving grace was the delicious turkey dinner put
by the Boyle Mcauley Plaza for the inner city & homeless. And that was my
Christmas.

Then for New Years Eve, I left a party extremely
early put on by the Mustard Seed because I ran into my uncle standing in line
at the Hope Mission shelter and offered him a night’s stay at my place. I’m not
supposed to have overnight guests, but thought I’d risk it for my uncle on such
a bookmark evening. However, someone ratted me out, and so I received a chewing
from the landlord. Keep in mind now the other housemate who I’ve mentioned and
had to endure months of problems with, not to mention that death threat.

Because that is
exactly what was going through my mind when I got right back into his face,
defending the kindness I only wished to show to my uncle. It ended up with me
trying to give him my thirty day notice but he wouldn’t accept it. Citing that
it had to be handed in before the first of the month… this was only the third
of January.

Sure I realize he was
only trying to confer a warning according to house rules, but it was the way he
did it and the tone in his voice that set me off. And besides, do you really
think my frame of mind was of a tranquil state by this point? COMMON, GIVE YOUR
HEADS A SHAKE PEOPLE! HAHAHAHA!... I wuv wou guys, Lol.

In wrapping this up,
let me just say that I agree my words and actions do not always reflect those
of a model Christian. And knee jerk reactions are what contribute to my
exclusion from a so called “higher society”. However it is not my intention to
seek such a ridiculous thing. That is for those who love their life and the
things of this world (John12:25) I personally shall place my hopes and dreams
towards the kingdom of heaven. Well that, plus the fact I am highly flawed. And
like just everyone else, the problems of this world tend to get to me from time
to time.

So I must apologize
for my complaints in the latter half of this story. Because not only did I wish
to convey how the Christmas season serves only as a reminder to many, especially
for those on the street, of loved ones lost. But also just to share how hard it’s
been for me personally this season. Don’t worry or have pity for me though. That
is not my intention in writing this, and it’s probably best it took so long for
me to post this story. This way the season is over and most of the pain has
subsided. The Lord is my comfort.

I would also like to
express my gratitude to places like the Mustard Seed as well as other
charitable organizations. Places that provide warm drop-ins, hot meals and that
community atmosphere. But most importantly, to the caring people who choose to take
time out of their busy lives to work and volunteer at places like these. Such
as the woman who was willing to open her home and family to me for Christmas.
For that evening I was really feeling down and near the end of my rope. However
her generous offer along with a simple $10 Tim Horton’s gift card truly brought
me back from that precipice of sorrow, if only for a short time.

That’s all it really
takes you know, for someone to show they care. A sincere love for the least of
us can truly brighten somebody’s day or even save a life. That is what these
places are all about you know. So please support you local shelter or drop-in.
Drop in yourself and pass on some of that love which the Father has shown you.
So come next year… hold in your hearts and in your prayers, those who are not
as fortunate in having a family to share the season with. And if you happen to
be counted among those, keep in mind the Lord your God… for He is the one true Father
who will never leave you, nor will He forsake you.

2 comments:

God bless you Johnny, I love your relationship with Jesus. You are an amazing writer never stop writing ! I pray that you will soon be able to see your grandson and that God will help you to heal your relationships with your children. Never lose hope as God can heal all wounds. You have a gift in your writing and I hope that you write a book someday. Your mom sounds like she was an amazing woman , thank you for sharing your soul in this way. May God bless you and strengthen you on this journey. The artist lady